


Til the Earth Starts to Crumble

by Heronfem



Series: Non-binary Bokuto [2]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Domestic Fluff, Love, Non-binary character, Other, Shorts
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-01
Updated: 2018-03-01
Packaged: 2019-03-25 20:28:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,412
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13842417
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Heronfem/pseuds/Heronfem
Summary: The romantic life and times of Bokuto Koutarou, non-binary icon, and Akaashi Keiji, hopeless romantic.





	1. Chapter 1

Some days are better than others. Some days, it's an easy thing, simple as breathing. Some days Bokuto is completely comfortable and confident in how they appear, dressing in fine linens and elegant blouses and low slung heeled shoes. Keiji likes those days. He likes to marvel at the fact that Bokuto's taste in clothing is so very _pretty_ when presenting as female, likes how happy Bokuto is. He's a vision in masculine clothes as well, an unexpected fashionable powerhouse with a street fashion Instagram with a wild number of followers, but they look especially delightful in soft skirts that Keiji can slide his hands under and tall socks that hide the bite marks on her thighs. 

Keiji loves them so much it takes his breath away. 

But for all the good days, there are bad ones as well. Very bad ones, with self doubt and shame, and Keiji taking the day off to soothe and make sure that the dysphoria doesn't lead the love of his life to do something dangerous. 

Today is a good day. 

Keiji wakes up to singing in the kitchen and an empty bed. He wonders if it's worth going back to sleep, and letting Koutarou bring him breakfast when it's done. It's a tempting thought, but he decides not to. He rises, grimacing at the taste of morning mouth. Leaving the room, he wanders to the kitchen with a yawn and smiles when he finds Bokuto plating their breakfast. He's made french toast, fancy and heavy, just how Keiji likes it. He's dressed down for a day in a soft, floral tank top and grey sweats, and Keiji takes a moment to appreciate the sheer amount of cleavage on display. 

"Keeeeiiiijiiiii," Koutarou drawls out, smiling wide. "Your hair!"

Keiji grimaces, reaching up. He feels his waves sticking up on one side like Kuroo's. "Ah."

Koutarou brings the plates from around the counter, setting them on the pristine dining table where the settings are already out. Keiji debates sitting, then immediately discards the idea in favor of taking Koutarou's hand and spinning him into his arms.

Koutarou beams at him, and Keiji kisses them. 

"Good morning, beautiful," he murmurs, and Koutarou blushes prettily. "I like this shirt."

"So bold this morning!"

"Mm." Keiji kisses him again, reeling him in tight. Koutarou melts against him, throwing his arms around him. "I can't help it."

"It's my tits, right? They look great in this."

"They do," Keiji agrees, not the first time wondering if he's developing a fetish with how much he catches himself staring. Koutarou is built like a young god and Keiji is so weak. "You've taken your meds?"

Koutarou nods. "Yep! Both of them, and I did it a half hour ago so my stomach's settled!"

Keiji kisses his nose to watch pink flush his cheeks. "How long are Kuroo and Kenma gone?"

Koutarou giggles as Keiji shamelessly feels down his torso, a little ticklish but not pulling away. "They left an hour ago, they're gone til Wednesday! Kuroo reeeeally wants to spend the vacation being all sappy and seeing Cat Island."

That'll be nice. They won't have to be quiet during sex, then. Keiji kisses Koutarou again, and again, and once more. Koutarou melts, making happy little noises against Keijii's lips, sturdy hands holding him tight. 

"Your breath is terrible, Keiji!" Koutarou laughs when they break apart. Keiji peppers kisses over his cheeks to make him laugh and smile, his own smile wide and easy, and Koutarou looks at him like he's the sun rising high in the sky. 

Keiji loves them. He loves them so much, so strongly, it fills him up and turns him into something soft as flower petals. He's reserved in public, with his family, with the team. But alone, with Koutarou who loves every flaw and fault and inch of him, it's so easy to be open.

"I love you," he says to her, and Koutarou's chest heaves with a sucked in breath. "I love you, I love you, I love you. I don't tell you enough."

"Keeeijiii!" Koutarou is blushing, so pretty and her eyes sparkling. "I love you too!"

Keiji kisses them again, almost desperate, and Koutarou's strong arms keep him stable. He's always been safe in Koutarou's arms. He can weather any storm that life throws at him so long as Koutarou keeps holding him with the care and strength of those arms. It's easy to forget when they're laughing and bouncing around just how strong they are. They always come through, shaken on the surface but iron in their soul.

Keiji pulls back with one last, lingering kiss, and Koutarou smiles at him, looking bowled over. Keijii's never going to get tired of the wonder in his partner's eyes when they look at him, and he's never going to stop feeling so grateful that he and Koutarou found each other.

"I love you," Keiji tells them again, and Koutarou manages to hold his hand the entire time they eat breakfast.


	2. In which Konoha is a good guy

Sarukui sits down across from Konoha with a thud, slapping his tray on the table, and Akinori wonders if it's too late to flee. 

The answer is probably yes since he's already eaten about a third of his food and he's starving.

“I'm having a crisis,” Sarukui announces with the solemnity of a priest.

“That sounds like a you problem.”

“Konoha, oh wise sage-”

“Oh, so this is an us problem now?”

Sarukui powers on, flushing a little. “-I think I'm bi. Or maybe gay.”

Akinori pauses for dramatic effect and so Sarukui will squirm before saying, “Oh, so this _is_ an us problem. What, you wanna make out?”

“Konoha Akinori, would it kill you to be serious for half a minute?”

“It might. Better not to test it.” But Akinori sets his burger aside, steeples his fingers, and gives his friend his full attention. The restaurant is busy as always. They come to the little fusion restaurant about once a month, just the two of them, to joke and gossip about life and just catch up. Sarukui has a high powered job, Akinori is prepping to start graduate studies, and while they're both eternally busy they try and make time for each other as much as possible. Akinori gets lonely, and Sarukui tends to disappear into the void that is the neighborhoods biggest publishing house. “So, what's up?”

“Bokuto.”

“Ohhhh,” Akinori says, immediately understanding. “Yeah. Yeah, I get it.”

Sarukui is very red, not that Akinori blames him. “I had lunch with them and Akaashi the other day. She was in this really, really lovely dress and had makeup on and everything and their hair is just so _long_ now and _ugh_. They're just so pretty like this, and then I saw him playing for Chuo the other day in uniform and everything and oh my god, Akinori, his legs are ridiculous without the really tall leggings.”

“I mean, we already knew that-”

“ _Akinori_.”

“-But I can definitely understand where you're coming from.” Akinori braces his chin in his hand. “Is it just Bokuto you're attracted to?”

Sarukui looks away from him, and Akinori gets the distinct feeling he shouldn't tease right now. There's something a little vulnerable in Sarukui's expression, scared and uncertain. He remembers that same expression on his own face, looking in the mirror the night he came to the understanding about himself all those years ago. It's familiar and painful. 

“No,” Sarukui says, very quietly. “No, not just him. There's... there's this kid, at the firm. I say kid, he's maybe a year younger than us at a stretch, but he's just so earnest and nice and he's got these really pretty long fingers. He missed his calling as a setter. And now that I know what I'm thinking about, I've been looking at guys a lot. And I think there's other people that I'm interested in, too, but I don't know what to do about that.”

Akinori reaches over, offering his hand palm up. Sarukui takes it, clasping loosely. It's a familiar gesture, uniquely theirs. They did it every time the other scored a point, or succeeded on a test, or managed to ask someone out. It's a reassurance to Sarukui that he's not doing anything wrong.

“I'm too old for this,” Sarukui mutters, looking at the table.

“Nah,” Akinori says, and squeezes his hand. “I don't think so. I don't think you're ever to old for things like this.”

**Author's Note:**

> This is the not-actually sequential sequel to 'go out in the world (to start over again)'.
> 
> I'm basically going to be writing in this verse for bad dysphoria days.


End file.
